


Bach’s Cello Suite in G major

by drwritermom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: An actual British Pie Store in NJ, Bach Cello Suites, Daily Prophet, F/M, Hell hath no fury like a Weasley scorned, M/M, Mpreg, Plenty of Innuendo, Soulmates, no actual smut, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwritermom/pseuds/drwritermom
Summary: His personal life literally up in flames, splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet in excruciatingly technicolor detail, Harry Potter is sent to scenic Montclair, NJ, to lick his wounds and catch up with a significant wizard from his troubled past.  And to drink some excellent coffee, eat some truly spectacular steak and ale pie and cheddar scones, and learn to play a musical instrument.  All of this will make sense, I promise.  Oh, and did you know that Severus Snape has an Auntie, Viola Prince?  Now you do!  Enjoy!  And Happy Birthday, Harry!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (past), Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76
Collections: A Very Harry Birthday!





	Bach’s Cello Suite in G major

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a piece in the 2019 Snarry Swap, where Severus Snape had a happening coffee shop in Hogsmeade. I meant this to be the more “serious” take on the same prompt. I stalled out, unable to determine the direction I wanted to take this piece. After a month of taking real life viola lessons, I re-found my finicky muse and finished this combination of four of my true loves - the Pie Store in scenic Montclair, NJ, artisanal coffee, orchestral stringed instruments, and of course, the reason I’m here, SNARRY! Obviously, JKR, Bloomsbury books, and Warner Brothers own the Harry Potter corporate machine, and I’m not making a plug nickel on this work of highly caffeinated fiction.

Chapter One - A Rusty Tin Can to a Mysterious Future

It was a thoroughly defeated Harry Potter who was seated, slumped, in the armchair across from the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. A wildly technicolor version of the Daily Prophet was the only object laying on the desk separating them. Ginny Weasley, her flaming red tresses caught mid-flight in all its incandescent glory, was chasing an obviously harried Harry, while brandishing his burning Firebolt SE like a torch. “Boy Who Lived Carries Torch for Dead Headmaster, Ex-Fiancée Gets Flaming Retribution” was the incendiary headline. After several minutes of tense silence, Harry spoke.

“I beg your pardon, Minister, but I don’t understand why I was called into your office. Auror guidelines dictate that any disciplinary proceedings are to follow the chain of command. Why aren’t I sitting before my commanding auror?”

“Auror Potter - Harry, I didn’t summon you to discipline you. Miss Weasley attempted to murder you by Incendio, you are entirely innocent. I understand that you decided not to press charges, if she participates in intensive therapy with a mind healer. I respect your decision.”

Shacklebolt continued. “If I may be blunt, Harry, Miss Weasley confessed that your obsession with “a dead man” was so all-encompassing, that she felt abandoned and betrayed. The students who attended Hogwarts while you were off hunting Horcruxes, were subjected to tremendous cruelty during Snape’s tenure as headmaster. It does not matter to many, that he was actually protecting them from far greater cruelty. That which they did endure was still the stuff of nightmares-“

“Minister-“

“We fought a war together, Harry. Call me Kingsley, please-“

“Kingsley, I know they suffered. And I understand Ginny’s rage. But how on earth can I ever forgive myself for believing the worst of Snape? He died to save my life, he put his life on the line every freaking day to atone for a choice he made as a student, and all I did was treat him with contempt. He bled out on a filthy wooden floor, never knowing that his sacrifice won us the war. I should have tried to save him. Tell me, how the hell do I live with that?”

Shacklebolt contemplated the broken man before him. The Wizarding World had taken too much from this accidental hero, and it was high time that someone at least tried to give something back. “Harry, I have been talking with your superiors, and your closest friends and family, and we are all in agreement - you need some time away from the aurors, away from the younger Weasleys, hell, time away from the whole of wizarding Britain. You need an escape from all of the roles that have been thrust upon you, to find out who you truly are. And Harry, you really need a hobby. Something distinctly non-magical, that soothes you, and belongs only to you. Have you thought about learning to play a musical instrument?”

“I don’t see what this has to do with my life literally going up in flames, but I’ll play along. I’ve always wanted to play a musical instrument. I really like orchestral music. I used to listen to it in the school library during recess, to avoid my cousin, Dudley. I always wanted to learn the viola. Dudley took violin lessons for a month, before Uncle Vernon snarled that only poofs played the violin. Freaks like me don’t get music lessons-

“Kingsley interrupted before Harry became even more dejected. “A mutual friend mentioned he felt you might find the viola compelling-“

“If one of Dumbledore’s portraits suggested that, I’ll Accio every last one of those meddling paintings and make a star-spangled bonfire-“

“Keep your wand in its holster, Harry, this has nothing to do with Albus. But I think I’ll keep your benefactor a secret for now. What you need to know is that I am sending you to a college town in New Jersey. The portkey will deposit you in a park, facing a quaint British shop called The Pie Store. The steak and ale pie there is exquisite, so are the cheddar scones, but I digress. Next to it is the Montclair Music Studio, which is both a musical instrument store, and a studio for those seeking instrumental lessons. Between those two establishments, under Fidelius, is the entrance to wizarding Montclair. Go to the coffee shop that you see as soon as you enter the archway. You will find what you need there.” 

Kingsley handed Harry a rusty tuna tin, a piece of parchment with the address of that entrance under Fidelius, and a satchel packed with essentials. “Arthur sent this along, only he, Molly and Minerva know of your impending vacation.”

“When am I expected back?”

“That rather depends on you, Harry. You need time away from all of those who would seek to define you. You alone will know when it is time to return, if at all.”

Harry jumped up from his chair, and started shaking where he stood.

“Are you trying to banish me? Kings, please tell me you don’t believe any of Rita Skeeter’s ‘Will Harry Potter become the next Dark Lord’ shite!”

Kingsley stepped out from behind his desk, and placed a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Arthur, Molly, Minerva and I feel it is high time for you to live your life free from the public eye, which has always judged you harshly. I promise you, this vacation will be a gift, not a punishment. I envy you, your journey of self-discovery.”

Harry had no answer for that. “When does the portkey activate?”

Kingsley cast a tempus and smiled. “Grab your satchel, Harry. Three, two, one - NOW!”

Chapter Two - And He’s Flying a Tin Can - to Heaven? 

-Twenty-four hours earlier. A heavily glamoured Severus Snape is sitting in the very same seat Harry will occupy the following day.-

“You can see, Severus, why the time has come for the Seeker to catch the proverbial Snitch...”

“Kingsley, I have always despised that ‘snitch’ moniker. Be warned, the next time you use it, I will hex you in such a way that your basso profundo becomes a lyric soprano-”

“Kindly keep my wedding tackle out of this!” Kingsley chuckled. “Seriously, Severus, Harry needs you, the poor young man has suffered enough.”

“I left England to allow that young man to pursue his life without having to make amends for his role in a war he should never have had to fight. I never thought he would grieve so in my absence.”

“As harsh as you were with him, Snape, you were the only person in his life who made his safety your top priority. Everyone else wanted something from him. You wanted nothing of him, but his survival. That kind of devotion leaves a mark.”

“It’s been three years, Kingsley. I fear his anger at my deception will put us both at risk for some painful accidental magic-“

“His profound relief that he was not responsible for your death should counterbalance any anger issues, Severus. Your disappearance gutted him.”

“Say no more. You win, Kingsley. Send him to me. I saw a possible therapeutic hobby for him during our disastrous Occlumency sessions. I think I shall introduce him to instrumental music. I know he likes orchestral strings. I play the cello. I know a witch who teaches violin and viola. I could have him meet her at the Montclair Music Studio - Harry could try out the violins and violas, and see what suits him. As he progresses, he can join a group of players with similar skill levels. I think he’d really enjoy being part of a group, working together to create music.”

“That sounds good, Severus. I’ll send him to you tomorrow. Ginny Weasley really did a number on him, and that thick as a plank Ronald Weasley believes Harry and she can still work on their differences.”

“Grief has prevented Harry from realizing their total incompatibility. He hasn’t worked out his sexuality yet. Hermione Granger approached me in their sixth year, stating she felt he was homosexual, and that he needed to talk to another homosexual male in authority. That witch is too clever by half-“

Needing to cut this meeting short, Kingsley interrupted. “So, I’ll call him to my office after his shift tomorrow. That would make it early afternoon for you.”

“I’ll be waiting for him in the park when he arrives, it’s only a short walk from there to Music Alley.”

“I can’t even begin to thank you, Severus, for myself, for Minerva, and for Molly and Arthur. And thank you for the steak and ale pie, and the cheddar scones - they were delicious! Oh, and if I don’t see you beforehand, Happy Holidays!”

“No thanks are required. Harry rid the world of a great evil, and suffered greatly doing so. I want to properly thank him for his sacrifices. He deserves no less. I’ll owl you after he is settled in. As for the food, informing that overbearing mother hen, Molly Weasley, that I’m not starving myself is all the thanks I need. And Happy Holidays to you as well.”

With a curt nod, Severus Snape took a manila folder portkey from the Minister and went slip-sliding away, across the Atlantic.

-Present time minus ten minutes. Severus Snape was puttering around his coffee shop, singing along to Stairway to Heaven on the radio while tending to his cauldron-shaped coffee urns and lab bench-fashioned pastry displays, when he realized Harry was soon to arrive.

“I can only hope that Mister Potter’s punctuality has not improved since Hogwarts” Severus muttered, as he flung off his apron, donned his coat, hat, muffler, and gloves; turned the sign in the shop window to “closed”, and rushed out of the door and across the street, taking quick strides to arrive at the park before Potter’s portkey was due to arrive. 

In another lifetime, the former dungeon bat would have relished the sight of Harry bloody Potter, the brat who lived, on all fours, in the snow, at Snape’s feet. (Oops, author’s bad, for failing to mention that poor Potter had nearly face-planted upon arrival, in four inches of freshly fallen snow, right in front of the former professor) “My, how the mighty have fallen” is what Severus would have said, had he not just seen Harry’s humiliation sprawled across the front page of the Prophet. 

“Welcome to scenic Montclair, New Jersey, Mister Potter” is what he did say, for that was all he could think to mutter, after hoisting Potter to his feet and observing Harry’s state of shock upon seeing a dead man. “Follow me, Potter, and allow me to revive you with my best brew-“

“There isn’t enough fire whisky in the world to revive me” Harry stuttered, fighting back angry tears. “Three years, you let me believe you were dead. THREE YEARS!”

Wishing to avoid a scene, Severus picked up the rusty tin can with his free hand and Apparated them to Prince’s Perks, the most hipster coffee house in all of wizarding - well, anywhere! They quickly removed their outerwear. Gone were the billowing robes of Hogwarts, in their stead were skinny jeans, a plaid shirt, and trainers, all in greys or black. Only the signature coiffure, dark chocolate brown eyes and seemingly prehensile nose verified that this particular elder hipster was indeed Severus Snape.

Two cups of Snape’s finest brew, a generous helping of chocolate mousse pie, courtesy of The Pie Store, and a calming draught later, Harry was in a fit state to learn the why of his former professor’s disappearance and presumed death.

“You have to understand, Potter, that after the final battle, there were many people, on both sides, who wanted me dead. Dumbledore planned my escape. Cruel taskmaster that he was, he knew he had asked too much of me, and wanted to insure that I survived the war. Albus and I determined the snake would be the Dark Lord’s weapon. I carried a vial of phoenix tears, antivenin and a portkey on my person at all times, during my tenure as headmaster. If and your friends hadn’t left the shack when you did, I would not have been able to heal the wounds that beast inflicted in time. It was vital that you believe I had died-“

“Why? Why did you need me, need all of us, to believe you were dead? I don’t understand.”

“Harry, Albus greatly regretted using you as a tool to bring down the Dark Lord. In life, he could see no other way to end the reign of tyranny. He was much more circumspect in death. Just prior to your arrival on that final day, Dumbledore confessed that you were a Horcrux. He theorized that the killing curse would kill the parasitic bit of Riddle’s soul, but spare you. We agreed that the burden of proving my innocence was too much to ask of you, given all you had sacrificed. We strongly believed you deserved to live your life free of my excess baggage.”

“You were wrong, Snape. You were the only person who saw me as the flawed human wizard that I was, and still am. I needed you. I forgave you as I watch your life slip away. And after seeing your memories, I knew that I needed to reconcile the man you truly were with the hateful persona you were forced to adopt. The guilt I carried was tremendous, and I had so many questions!”

“It was never my intent, Harry, to make you suffer. I truly believed you deserved a life without my tainted past. Had I known that you needed me, I would have fetched you sooner. Were you able to salvage your Firebolt, or was it well and truly torched?”

“Did you just end your heartfelt apology with a non-sequitur?”

“Ooh, non-sequitur, Harry, did you strain your brain and limited vocabulary, lobbing that O-level word back at me?”

“My answer depends on whether my use of the admittedly top shelf compound word, in Latin, no less, delivered its intended payload.”

“Your current verbosity is only surpassed by your obvious snark. The payload did indeed hit its target. Do you accept my apology, brat, or will this snark war escalate? Boy Who Lived you may be, but I will best you in a battle of words.”

“I accept your humble apology, and I add one of my own. I am sorry I never trusted you-“

“No apologies, Harry. It was essential that you hate me. Death Eater children had to believe that we were enemies. For that to happen, I had to be the reviled dungeon bat.”

“Enough with the history lesson. Despite the excellent caffeine you’ve supplied, I’m knackered. Where can I have a kip around here?”

“I have a spacious three bedroom flat above the shop. Take those stairs ahead, the second door to your left. I’ll follow you up.”

Watching Harry climb the stairs, Snape pondered the tin can sitting on the table beside him. “And he’s flying a tin can, to heaven” he sang, silently, for when a hero’s life in Britain has suffered a death by media, an escape to a picturesque college town is indeed a heaven, of sorts. It certainly had been for Severus.

Chapter Three - Family in a Far-away Land

Three and one half years earlier, Montclair, New Jersey, United States of America

The late night silence in the quaint colonial home of the last remaining Prince, Viola, was shattered by a portkey bearing the deathly pale, barely conscious form of her nephew, Severus Snape. Viola was the much younger sister of Eileen Prince Snape, who left her family of her own volition when she learned of her elder sister’s death at the hands of her Muggle husband. 

At this point in this story, it is important to note that Severus had spent at least two weeks with his aunt, in Montclair, every summer since Dumbledore had secured his freedom from Azkaban. During these visits, Viola shared her love of music with her nephew, and began teaching him to play the cello. He took to it like a duck to water, and became a quite proficient amateur cellist.

It is doubly important to note that after leaving England, Viola relocated in Montclair, New Jersey. She was drawn to Montclair, as it was the home of Samuel Applebaum, the author of the seminal method of orchestral string instrument instruction, the String Builder series. She had learned to play using that series. She took private lessons in violin, viola and cello with him, as well as master classes at Montclair State. She obtained her undergraduate and graduate degrees in violin and viola from Montclair State University, and Rutgers University, respectively. She became an excellent teacher and professor.

And now back to the tale, already in progress, although three years in the past. Bad author.

Viola Apparated from her bedroom to the site of the commotion. Seeing her nephew in such distress, she Flooed the Mediwizard at the University, who stepped through and tended to the potions master, administering the remaining vials of antivenin and blood replenisher that Severus had carried with him, buried in his satchel. The phoenix tears had already closed the wound prior to activating the portkey, leaving minimal scarring. Before discharging Severus to his aunt’s care, he was dosed with Dreamless Sleep, to ensure that he slept long enough for the other potions to work.

Twenty four hours later, a much healthier looking Severus Snape awoke to find his aunt’s piercing amber eyes scrutinizing him.

“I am assuming that your presence here means that the international edition of the Daily Prophet finally has the right of things-“

“If you mean, did Harry Potter rid the world of the megalomaniac snake-faced bastard that was terrorizing Britain, then yes, it is true.”

“The boy has declared that you are responsible for the Dark Lord’s defeat, that you are a true hero.”

“No mere boy, alone, could defeat that monster, Aunt Viola.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t understand why you feel the need to leave Britain permanently. You know the public will believe you died.”

“Children suffered greatly during my tenure as headmaster. And there is no one there who will remember me fondly. My only friend died at my hand, by his own order. It is best for all concerned that I left.”

“Perhaps you should let someone know of your whereabouts, Severus-“

“Kingsley Shacklebolt knows. Dumbledore trusted him enough to tell him of the plan to have me installed as headmaster after his death. He authorized the portkey.”

“You showed Potter your memories, Severus. Don’t you think he has questions for you?”

“It is best for him, to leave our adversarial relationship in the past. There was nothing pleasant in any of our interactions. It is enough that he knows my true motivation.”

“I respect your decision, although I think you may come to regret it. But enough of that. I did find a vacant shop, as you asked for in our last Floo call. Are you opening an apothecary?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I will be opening a coffee shop. I have developed an obsession with brewing the perfect cup of coffee. I ran on caffeine this past year, I became quite proficient.”

“Music Alley needs a good coffee shop. I look forward to getting my morning cup of ‘wakey wakey’ from your fine establishment.”

“I look forward to your patronage, and I thank you for your hospitality, Auntie. I also look forward to forging a closer bond with you.”

“I love you too, dear nephew.”

Thus endeth the back story, back to the present. Harry has fallen asleep in Snape’s guest room, physically and emotionally drained after quite a startling day.

“So, Severus, my prediction was correct. The Boy Who Lived has come to make peace with the spy responsible for his continued survival.”

“Shh, Viola, said brat has just fallen asleep in my guest room. He was overwhelmed by my apparent resurrection-“

“Of course he was! That lad mourned you, Severus.”

“I am well aware of that! He shouldn’t have. I treated him horribly. He was well shot of me!”

“Obviously not. He needed you then, and he needs you now. But you said that you needed my assistance with him. What can I do to help?”

“Potter is fascinated with the viola. I was hoping you could take him to pick out an instrument. It goes without saying that you would teach him to play.”

“I look forward to meeting him, and helping him select his instrument. And I doubly look forward to teaching him. Music can be quite therapeutic, as you well know.”

“Getting lost in a challenging cello piece preserved my sanity on many an occasion, I am hoping music is equally soothing to Harry.”

“So, he is Harry now?”

“I never hated the boy. You know that.”

“Severus, what happened between the two of you, when you gave the lad your memories?”

“I wanted to see Lily’s eyes one last time, and I saw Harry, a man who was poised to meet his destiny. And I felt this jolt, a realization, that we shared something vital. It frightened me.”

“Did you notice anything else, since arriving here?”

“I have a soulmate mark. It appeared that night. Over my heart.”

“What is it?”

“An alto clef. Because I was destined to never escape the brat who loves the viola.”

“Oh, Severus. Would you have ever told him?”

“I know it sounds strange, but I knew he would come to me when the time was right.”

“He is here now, dear nephew. Do not waste this opportunity to get to know each other better.”

“I won’t. So, shall we meet up tomorrow, after lunch?”

“I look forward to it.”

The two remaining Princes embraced before Viola popped out of Snape’s sitting room.

Chapter Four - Bach in the Key of Yuletide Major 

Harry awoke to the heavenly aroma of freshly-brewed coffee, and the dulcet, honeyed tones of a cello playing a Bach suite that Harry could not place. A note was propped up against the travel mug filled with Prince’s finest. “Meet me in the shop as soon as you have seen to your morning ablutions. -SS”. “Morning ablutions, only Snape speaks like that” Harry mumbled as he grinned to himself.

One shit, shower and shave later (he’s in NJ now, we talk that way, get over it - oops, this writer’s Jersey girl just escaped, sorry, I’ll Incarcerous her ass and we can all forget this ever happened).

Ahem, where was I? Ah, yes. Harry had just finished his morning ablutions. He quickly donned his kit, tied his trainers, grabbed his coffee, and followed the melody down to Prince’s Perks. Harry froze in the doorway that connected the flat to the shop. Severus Snape was seated in a dark wooden chair, cello and bow seamlessly melded to his frame, totally enveloped in the music he was playing. Head bowed, he failed to notice Harry’s arrival, until he finished playing. Harry’s gasp brought Severus out of his trance. In that moment, Harry felt a warm jolt over his heart.

Severus quickly placed his cello in its stand, the bow on the chair, and rushed to Harry’s side. 

“What’s wrong, Harry? Come, sit down”, he muttered, as he swiftly ushered Harry to the nearest available seat, his hands supporting Potter’s back and shoulder.

Harry was speechless, for just then, an intoxicating stream of magical energy flowed outward from Severus’ hands, reaching out and embracing Harry’s magic before flooding his senses.

Severus was likewise overcome with Harry’s magic, which washed over the erstwhile potions master, much like a cool, cleansing spring rain. He rather clumbsily plonked his arse upon the adjoining seat, grasping Harry’s hands as if they were a life line.

The sound of two wizards, panting in unison, was the only greeting Viola Prince received as she bustled into Prince’s Perks, expecting to find her morning cup of Joe waiting for her by the cash register, as she arrived to take Harry to choose his instrument.

“Merlin, my timing is just exquisite” she purred, as she witnessed the very private spontaneous soul bonding occurring right before her eyes. “No need for a fussy, officious, ceremonial bonding, when the Fates have, in their infinite wisdom, catapulted over the what would surely have been a fumbling, angst-filled courtship, and just sealed the deal spontaneously!” 

Severus and Harry were a bit slow in responding, being all blissed out by their brand-spanking new soul connection. Severus just couldn’t find it within himself to be incandescent with rage, for the interruption. He finally croaked out a response. “I take it you’ll be wanting your usual, Auntie” he uttered, as he bustled to the freshly brewed urn of the house blend, making a production out of the preparation of his aunt’s first cup of the day.

“I suppose this is actually a blessing, for now we won’t have to endure an over-the-top, West End theatrical production that is the essence of a Weasley wedding” Severus hopefully mused.

It was at this point that a furiously blushing Harry emerged from the last tendrils of magical ecstasy and latched onto the words “Weasley wedding”, jolting upright from his seat, causing it to clatter backwards onto the highly polished hardwood floor.

“What Weasley wedding? I barely escaped Ginny’s wrath with my little Harry still attached, why would I ever want to marry that harpy?” Harry shrieked.

“Oh, you poor dear, that witch really did a number on you, didn’t she” Viola murmured, before pulling Harry into a motherly hug.

Harry soaked up the sorely needed affection (the poor young man was more than a tad touch-starved, not surprising, given his upbringing). Upon regaining his composure, he somewhat reluctantly separated himself from his newly minted Auntie Viola, and took his place at Severus’s side. Harry’s Prince took this opportunity to hug his soulmate.

“My Harry, Molly Weasley will want to throw some elaborate party to celebrate our new status as bond mates. How unfortunate will it be for her when we tell her that our small, family only celebration will only occur within the confines of this shop”.

Oh, my dear nephew, puh-leeze let me be the witch that has the exquisite pleasure of personally delivering this delicious morsel of news to Molly Prewitt Weasley”, Viola requested, in a tone that could melt butter. “Her fits of pique were legendary when we were at Hogwarts together! I foresee another Daily Prophet special edition, with yet another fiery Weasley witch, tearing across an open field, yielding a lit broom like an Olympic torch, chasing an unknown witch bearing a striking resemblance to Severus Snape” Viola cheerfully cackled.

Harry, still a bit overwhelmed by the meteoric change in his relationship status, once again donned a crimson blush as he whispered to his Prince “Sev, I’ve not had sex before, with anyone”. 

Viola’s preternatural hearing gave her the perfect excuse for a trans-Atlantic Floo ride to visit her old friend, Kingsley Shacklebolt, another school chum.

“Wish me luck, boys, I’m going up against a she dragon, and she’s a whiz at fire hexes!” With that exclamation, she Flooed out of there, giving our lads their privacy.

Chapter Five - Let’s Do the Time Warp Again (Epilogue)

An aside here. Don’t you just hate it when our lads discover their soul-deep connection, just to have the writer catapult over the super sexy fun time and deliciously incendiary rows, followed by amazingly athletic, passionate, white-hot make up sex? Well, allow me to be yet another writer who disappoints you by skipping over those absolutely scrummy bits (and our boys equally delightful scrummy bits).

As predicted, Viola’s arrival at the burrow was commemorated by not one (Molly Weasley neé Prewitt), not two (Ginny Weasley, clueless witch who totally missed that Harry was gay), but three incendiary Weasleys (Percy Weasley, I mean, by Merlin, who saw that one coming?), two wielding flaming brooms, while the third hurled red hot pewter cauldrons bearing bubotuber pus. None hit their mark, but it made for one hell of an edition of the Quibbler. If you wore the included Spectro-Specs, the Percy Weasley cauldron projectiles reversed course, dumping bubotuber pus all over Percy. It goes without saying that there were multiple reprints of that edition, which won every journalism award in wizarding Britain.

As for the bonding celebration, after Percy recovered from his painful pustules, and Molly and Ginevra completed their Wizengamot-mandated anger management courses, the Weasleys, Viola and the tiny remaining Prince family, Kingsley, Minerva, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and Draco and Narcissa Malfoy converged upon Princes Perks for an understated, yet beautifully tasteful celebration. The celebrants were treated to delicious food, catered by the Pie Store and Prince’s Perks, as well as a performance by Viola Prince on violin, Harry Potter Prince on viola, and Severus Tobias Potter Prince on cello.

After the celebration drew to a close, Severus and Harry retreated to a delightful cottage in the Poconos, were they stopped at all the best tourist spots by day, and enjoyed all manner of conjugal bliss by night. Harry, being an enthusiastic, pushy bottom, fell pregnant almost without being touched.

In the fullness of time, many a Potter-Snape graced the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Severus took to fatherhood like a duck to water. Harry threatened permanent banishment of Sev’s family jewels after the tenth child, if he didn’t get those jewels shooting blanks. The potion worked, until it didn’t. On their twentieth anniversary, the Fates just had to have their fun. Potter-Snapes eleven through fourteen were born nine months later, ‘cause the Fates granted Harry some wizarding space to carry that litter safely to term.

And although there was never a quiet moment, their home was filled with love, laughter, music (taught by Aunt Viola), and a whole f@ck ton of coffee, because, c’mon, fourteen freaking kids!!


End file.
